


Escape

by ebbj9891



Series: In Quest Of Something [25]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, POV Brian Kinney, Post-Series, Romance, Therapy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebbj9891/pseuds/ebbj9891
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin needs to get away. Brian happily obliges him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Friday

“Okay, I’m outta here,” Brian announces as he exits his office. He smiles at Cynthia and teases, “Try and keep the place in one piece, will you?”

Other than arching an eyebrow at him, Cynthia doesn’t respond. She merely hands him a couple of documents and orders, “Sign these. _Then_ you’re outta here.”

Brian grabs a pen and signs the forms hastily. “Make sure you-”

“-give Tom his thank-you gift, I know.” Cynthia smiles at him. “I’ve got everything sorted. Justin’s waiting downstairs. Be away with you.”

She plucks his favourite leather jacket from her desk and hands it to him. Once Brian has slipped into it, he kisses her cheek. “See you Tuesday.”

“See you then.”

As Brian leaves the office, he can hardly keep from smiling. Four whole days off. Four whole days away with Justin. He doesn't think it can get any better than that - and then he walks outside and is immediately proven wrong. There’s no sweeter sight than Justin waiting for him, leaning against the car with a huge grin on his face. Brian grins back at him. “Hey, Sunshine.”

“Hey,” Justin says, beaming brighter than Brian has seen from him in weeks. Months, even. “Ready to go?”

“You have no idea.” 

“How was the meeting with Griffiths?”

“Ugh,” Brian grunts. “Don't talk to me about that asshole. Let's just get the hell out of dodge.”

“Gladly,” Justin says, rounding the car. “Mind if I drive us out of the city?”

“Sounds good. Here, hold onto these - keys from Tom.” Brian digs them out of his pocket and tosses them to Justin. “He made us a copy. Said we're welcome any time, we just have to give him a call first.”

Justin folds his arms atop the roof of the car and gloats, “Remind me, who was the genius who hired Tom?”

Brian rolls his eyes. “In this context, are you using the word 'genius' in lieu of 'smug, conceited little shit'?”

Justin laughs. It's a light, lifting sound that thrills Brian. He hopes - no,  _vows -_ to hear it again and again and again this weekend.

As they get into the car, Justin grabs a tray holding coffee cups and hands one to Brian. “I got us coffee for the first leg.”

Brian accepts it eagerly and kisses him. “Thanks, Sunshine.”

“And I got us supplies,” Justin says, nodding towards a couple of paper bags set by Brian's feet. On further inspection, Brian realises that they're stuffed full of candy.

“There's nothing but candy in these.”

“Right,” Justin says slowly. “It's a road trip.”

“Right,” Brian drawls. “Well, enjoy your 'supplies'. I'm not touching that shit.”

Justin shakes his head and grins. “Right... is this like the time you refused to touch the snacks when we took Gus to the movies? And then my entire bag of marshmallows just _happened_ to vanish?”

“I told you, Gus probably inhaled them.”

“Gus was sitting in my lap the whole time,” Justin says, arching an eyebrow knowingly at Brian. “I think I would have noticed him 'inhaling' the marshmallows.”

It's obvious that he's been found out. Brian scowls at Justin and snarks, “Start the fucking car, will you?”

*

As the city disappears behind them, they drive in silence. Brian keeps his hand on Justin's leg and strokes it gently. Despite Justin's outwardly sunny mood, Brian is no stranger to the tension lurking beneath. He wants to ask how Justin's early therapy appointment was, but talking about therapy only ever seems to lead them down a depressing path. So Brian tries to extinguish his prickling sense of curiosity and focus on keeping Justin happy.

“We should be in Provincetown by sundown,” Justin says with a smile as he weaves in and out of traffic on the interstate. “I thought we could stop for lunch in Fairfield. There's this great café that Mom was telling me about. What do you think?” 

“Whatever you want,” Brian says casually. He lifts his hand from Justin's leg and brings it up to cradles the back of Justin's neck tenderly. “Really. Anything you want this weekend, it's yours.”

Justin's eyes light up with an utterly devilish gleam and he grins lasciviously at Brian.  _“Anything?”_

Brian knows that look and that tone very well, just like he knows precisely what Justin is angling for. Whilst fighting a smile, Brian scolds with a sigh, “Get your mind out of the gutter, will you?”

Justin laughs loudly and incredulously. “Do you really expect me to take that request seriously, coming from you? Besides - you're the one that put it there.” 

“I was not.” 

“Were too.” 

“Sunshine,” Brian laughs, “Don't think you can fool me. Daphne has told me many a tale of your dirty mind.” 

Justin scowls. “Shit.” 

“I know all about what a filthy little perv you were before you met me,” Brian says, smirking. “You were already a deviant. I just-” 

“Accelerated the process?”

“Yeah,” Brian chuckles, dropping his hand back down to squeeze Justin's thigh, “Something like that.”

*

Over lunch, they talk about anything and everything aside from therapy. Brian spends half an hour ranting about Griffiths, his least favourite but most lucrative client. After listening attentively and offering up a few choice words about the asshole, Justin diverts the focus to Gus and their upcoming holiday. Brian listens with quiet reverence as Justin reels off a huge list of ideas, all of which he knows Gus will love.

Then, suddenly, Justin switches tracks. “You know, you can ask me about it.”

Brian glances up from his lunch. “I can?”

“Yeah. I know you're wondering.”

“Okay.” Brian pushes his plate aside and leans forward. “What's your secret?”

Justin's brow furrows. “My secret?”

“You've eaten a bag of candy, a cheeseburger and fries, a brownie, and a milkshake. I see you do this constantly and, yet-” Brian makes a sweeping gesture in Justin's general direction, which makes Justin blush and grin. “So, I ask you: what's your secret?”

Under the table, Justin's foot slides up Brian's calf in a soft, teasing stroke. “You know what I meant.”

Brian shrugs non-noncommittally, as though this hasn't been on his mind all morning (and all week, and all month). He attempts to answer casually, even though his throat feels like it's constricting rapidly. “Just because I'm wondering doesn't mean you have to satisfy my curiosity.”

He watches as Justin continues swirling his straw through his milkshake. The motion goes slightly jagged; Justin's hand is tensing up a little. Brian reaches and takes it in his, then starts massaging it tenderly. Justin smiles faintly and says, “I want to talk about this stuff with you. If I can't talk to you...”

As he trails off, Justin stares at Brian pleadingly. Brian reminds himself of the promise he made earlier and tries to ignore the trace elements of anxiety flitting through him.

“Okay.” Brian nods and studies Justin cautiously. "Let's talk."

For a few moments, Justin stares at him with an open and earnest expression. He looks as though he's going to spill: pour his heart out and confess all. Brian waits with his heart heaving back and forth against his tonsils.

Then Justin falters, glances out the window towards the parking lot, and winces. His fingers curl around Brian's in a grasp so tight it almost aches. Brian squeezes back and supplies gently, “Later?”

With his gaze still cast miserably towards the parking lot, Justin agrees in a hollow tone, “Yeah, later.”

*

After lunch, they drive solidly for three hours. Brian keeps one hand on the wheel and one hand on Justin's leg for most of that time. Justin is almost deathly still and silent for the first hour; then, as they're nearing Cranston, he perks up and jams a CD in. Brian isn't all that fond of the inane pop music that starts blasting through the car, but he enjoys its effect. Justin relaxes, then brightens, then starts humming, and then starts singing. 

Adorable though it may be, Brian can't help but make fun. He smirks at Justin and taunts, “You have an atrocious voice.”

“Shut up! I do not!” Justin thumps Brian's chest and demands with a laugh, “Let's hear yours.”

“Uh, no.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Sorry, Sunshine, not gonna happen.”

“You've sung to me before.”

“When, exactly?”

Justin grins evilly. “Sometimes, when you're really drunk and/or high...”

“I'm not either of those things now, which I believe you should be grateful for.” Brian raps the steering wheel with his knuckles pointedly. “So no dice.”

He can feel Justin's gaze fixed on him, so he glances over and sees a sweet smile illuminating Justin's face. It then turns ever-so-slightly sly as Justin points out, “You said I could have anything I wanted.”

Brian sighs and gives Justin a look, but it has absolutely no effect. Justin continues directing that same optimistic smile his way and Brian's defenses start to weaken. He decides to relent somewhat and starts drumming the wheel in time with the song. “There, how's that?”

“Piss-fucking-weak,” Justin laughs. “But I'll take it.”

*

“... eggs, milk, bread, wine...” Justin frowns down at his shopping list. “I feel like I'm forgetting something.”

Brian eyes the alarmingly full shopping cart that Justin has spent the last twenty minutes filling. “Isn't this enough? It's a weekend away, not the goddamned apocalypse.”

Shrugging, Justin mumbles, “I swear there's something else that we need.”

“I can think of something we both need,” Brian says whilst hooking an arm around Justin's shoulders. He kisses his cheek and murmurs in his ear, “Let's get to the house.”

“That's it!” Justin yelps, in the elated manner of someone who has just experienced an epiphany. He grabs Brian's arm and steers him and the cart a few aisles down. “We have supplies; now we need _supplies.”_

Instantly cluing into Justin's meaning, Brian grins and accuses, “Deviant.”

“Yeah, well.” Justin grins back and grabs two tubes of lube and two boxes of condoms to throw in the cart.

Brian raises his eyebrows and whistles. “That's it? How very un-ambitious of you, Sunshine.”

He chuckles at the affronted expression on Justin's face. Justin narrows his eyes and asks, “Is that a challenge?”

Brian merely smirks in response. Justin grins wickedly and slips his arm atop the shelf, then sweeps half of the store's stock into the cart. He smiles smugly at Brian and asks, “How's that for ambition?”

With a burst of laughter, Brian replies, “Much better.”

*

By the time they get to the house, the sun is setting. The sky has blossomed vivid orange; the same shade is scattered across the rippling waves that are coming slowly in to shore. As they climb out of the car, Brian watches the sunset flood over Justin. He stands still for a moment; he's so transfixed by the sight of Justin under sunset that he feels stuck to the spot. Then a dazzling smile breaks out over Justin's face and Brian is compelled to move. He strides towards him and wraps him up in a hug from behind.

Justin leans back into the embrace with contented ease. He grabs Brian's forearms and squeezes them as he says, “It's beautiful here.”

Brian dips his head and nuzzles Justin's neck. “Sure is.”

“I love it,” Justin whispers. He turns around to face Brian and embraces him ardently. “Thank you for this.”

Overcome with affection, Brian kisses the top of Justin's head. He holds him close and promises softly, “It's going to be a good weekend.”


	2. Saturday

Saturday morning greets them with sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows. Brian awakes to Justin curled up beside him, his face obscured by his shock of blonde hair. Brian smooths it back gently and kisses Justin’s forehead, rousing him.

“Morning,” Justin says sleepily, whilst burrowing in closer. Brian is glad for it; he nuzzles Justin's hair and enjoys his nearness, his warmth.

He runs his fingers through Justin’s hair, enjoying the way the soft strands slide between his fingers. “Morning.”

Justin sighs and rolls onto his back, then stretches languidly. “I’m starving.”

“You’re _always_ starving.”

“Shut up or I won’t make you breakfast.”

“You wouldn’t be that cruel,” Brian retorts, grinning slyly at Justin, “Would you, Sunshine?”

“Probably not.” Justin grins back, then he leans in and steals a quick kiss. “Can you get the coffee started?”

“Sure.” Brian kisses Justin once more, then starts to sit up. As soon as he does, pain shoots from the nape of his neck to the middle of his back. Brian groans and mutters, “Fucking hell.”

Justin bolts upright and stares at him with big, panicked eyes. “Did I hurt you last night?”

Brian scoffs and stares sternly at Justin. “Do I look like a squirming virgin to you?”

With a grin, Justin retorts, “You’re probably as far removed from ‘virgin’ as a person can get.”

“True.” Brian chuckles. “Anyway, it’s not that. It’s my neck. And now my back as well, apparently.”

Justin frowns and reaches over to graze his hand over Brian’s back in the gentlest of caresses. “You’re all tense and tight.”

He continues stroking Brian’s back for a scarce few moments; then, abruptly, he leaps out of bed and announces, “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to hit the beach and go for a swim – that’ll help. Then later I’ll give you a massage.”

Brian pulls himself out of bed and grabs Justin around the waist. After hauling him close and kissing him soundly, he murmurs, “You’re too good to me.”

Justin smiles at him adoringly. “Right back at you.”

*

After a lazy breakfast and a lazier fuck in the shower, they make their way to the beach and find it nearly deserted. There are a few sunbathers dotted along the coast and a couple of people walking their dogs. Closer, there’s a family with small children who have built a colony of sandcastles, which instantly reminds Brian of Gus. He stifles the pang of longing and follows Justin down towards the shore. 

“Look,” Justin says, shielding his eyes against the sun. “There’s a platform out there.”

Brian follows his gaze and sees it: a platform, bobbing slightly amongst the gentle waves. “It’s pretty far out.”

“Yeah.” Justin grins. “Race you?”

Before Brian can even respond, Justin is off like a shot: running from the sand into the surf, then diving underneath in one smooth motion. He takes a while to resurface; when he does, he's almost a quarter of the way towards the platform - the fucking little show off. Brian ditches their towels on the sand and makes his way in. There’s a deep chill to the water that immediately rushes through him, sending pinpricks along the lengths of his legs. He doesn’t mind it; he enjoys the shock to his system, the rush it provides. There’s a sudden gust of wind that swells the water; he dives into the oncoming waves and starts after Justin.

When he reaches the platform, Justin is waiting with an incredibly cocky grin on his face. Eyes glittering, he taunts, “Beat you - by a long shot, too. Are you slowing down in your old age?”

“Twat,” Brian mutters as he pulls himself up onto the wooden planks. He flops down onto his back and stares up at the sky: clear and vivid blue with an abundance of sunshine. He closes his eyes for a moment and soaks up the warming rays.

When he opens his eyes, Justin is lying next to him, stretched out and seemingly relaxed. Brian closes his eyes and they lie there for a while in serene silence. There’s only the light rush of the breeze and the lapping of the waves to listen to. 

Then it's broken by Justin, asking quietly, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Brian agrees, speaking with deceptive lightness that he hopes masks the anxiety that’s shuddering through him.

“Have you ever thought about therapy?” Justin’s question comes out with a strain of guilt to it. “I mean, after… after prom, or maybe Babylon…”

Though his first instinct is to turn away from this subject matter, Brian is also struck with gratitude. He appreciates Justin’s generosity in abbreviating the list to two items when, really, it could go on for hours. Days, even. 

It takes him some time to summon a response. Though his initial instinct may have been to shut this down, that’s not an option – not when they said they’d talk about this. Brian hadn’t expected the conversation to veer in his direction, but fair’s fair – maybe it ought to be about the both of them.

“It’s been suggested to me on numerous occasions.” Brian frowns up at the sky, recalling the many instances where he was pushed in the direction of therapy and how strenuously he pushed back. Though he knows it’s proved meaningful for Justin, he can’t quite imagine himself in that context. He can’t imagine it would do any goddamned good. But he can’t bring himself to say any of that, so all Brian says is, “It’s not for me.”

Then it occurs to him that Justin’s question may be less of a question, and more of a prompt. He glances at Justin and queries, “Are you suggesting that-”

“No!” Justin shakes his head adamantly. “No, of course not. It’s not for me to say. It’s up to you and if you don’t think it’s for you, then that’s that. I trust your judgment.”

Brian glances down as Justin’s fingers curl around his wrist. Though the embrace is slight, it’s of immense comfort. Brian gazes back up at the sky and says, “I doubt it would help, that’s all. Besides, there are other forms of therapy.”

“Such as?” Justin asks, whilst cozying in close and pressing a tender kiss to Brian’s shoulder.

“Lots of things,” Brian says. His attempts at self-medication have been plentiful - there have been good attempts, bad attempts, and downright ugly attempts. He is suddenly confronted by memories of the latter two: long nights with only a bottle for company; the artificial rush sourced from a plethora of pills; all of this while obsessively avoiding sleep, sometimes to the point of total deprivation, forcing him to inch farther and farther away from sanity.

All of that seems awfully distant now. His methods of dealing with stress are still questionable at best, but lately they’ve been accompanied by ‘healthier’ attempts at coping - whatever the fuck that means. Brian doesn't give a shit if these  ‘healthier’ attempts would earn him a gold-seal of approval, all he cares is that they feel good and keep him sane. Like calling Gus at the end of a long day and listening to him chatter down the phone about anything and everything, peppering his speeches with _I love you, Daddy_ and  _I miss you, Daddy_. Or being with Justin and being able to be close to him in so many fucking fantastic ways.

Brian decides not to mention that Justin is one of his primary means of coping. It might be too much for Justin, who seems to place immense pressure on himself at the best of times; it doesn’t bear thinking how pressured he must feel at a time like this. So Brian merely says, “Like spending time with Gus.”

Justin’s face lights up, brighter than the sun shining down on them. “Yeah.”

“He’s...” Brian pauses as he searches for words sufficient to describe his son. The search proves hopeless; Gus is many things, all of them impossible to describe without diminishing them.

Perhaps the one that surprises Brian the most is Gus’ kindness, which he supposes Gus must get from Lindsay. The kid has a heart of gold that seems to be full to bursting of love to give - especially where Brian is concerned. It’s almost unfathomable: the adoring look on Gus’ face every time he looks at Brian; the way he seeks Brian out, demanding dugs and hand-holding nearly constantly; the gifts he bestows upon Brian that Lindsay swears he drove his whole heart and soul into.

Like the ‘Big Book of Me & Daddy’ – a school assignment for Father’s Day that Gus dedicated hours to in class and at home. The damn thing practically ended up the size of a novel, all stacked with drawings of the two of them: at the park, at the loft, at the movies. And then there were captions written in Gus’ emerging scrawl:  _I love my Daddy; Daddy is the greatest ever; Daddy and me are best friends forever._

Brian never expected to love Gus as much as he does. Even more unexpected is how much Gus loves him. It’s quite confronting at times; mostly, though, Brian is thrilled by it. He wants to hold onto it. He wants Gus’ love to remain his for as long as possible. He doesn't really know what he did to deserve it, if anything at all, and he has no idea how to hold onto it... but Brian is as determined as he has ever been to figure it the fuck out.

Ultimately, all Brian can think to say is: “He’s amazing.”

“He is,” Justin enthuses. “He’s the greatest kid ever.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” Justin turns his head and grins at Brian. “Of course he is – he’s so much like you.”

As Brian tries not to succumb to the giddiness induced by those words, Justin continues avidly, “But he’s also, like, his own person. It’s kind of weird… he used to just be this adorable little lump and now he’s so much more grown up and full of ideas and opinions… _so_ many opinions…”

“He is an opinionated little brat,” Brian agrees, smirking. “It seems to be my lot in life to be surrounded by those.”

“You _are_ one of those,” Justin laughs, swatting him. “That’s where Gus gets it from.”

Brian turns onto his side and eyes Justin meaningfully. “And from you. You mean a lot to him.”

Justin gazes back with affection, but that gradually fades and is replaced by something duller. He winces and admits, “I’m surprised that you even let me around him. I’m not exactly suitable for children right now, what with being a total headcase who needs therapy twice a week.”

“Don’t talk about my boyfriend like that,” Brian warns.

With a scowl, Justin mutters, “Your boyfriend isn’t doing so great right now.”

“And yet, he’s exactly the kind of person I want around my kid.” Brian musses Justin’s damp hair and says firmly, “Gus loves you. He can’t get enough of you. I happen to have a good idea of how that feels and trust me, neither one of us are willing to give it up just because you’re in therapy.”

“I feel like a freak.”

Brian huffs, grabs a handful of Justin’s hair, and tugs at it gently. “What did I just tell you? Quit talking about my boyfriend like that.”

He arches an eyebrow at Justin and asks in a low rumble, “Am I going to have to discipline you, Sunshine?”

Just like he knew it would, that immediately returns the smile to Justin’s face.

“Probably,” Justin says, his smile growing wider and wider. “It has been an awfully long time… I think you ought to remedy that. Soon. Tonight.”

“Tomorrow,” Brian counters, sprawling onto his back again. “You said you’d give me a massage.”

“And that’s going to take all night, is it?”

“Not necessarily.” Fighting to hide a smirk, Brian says innocently, “I thought I’d dedicate the rest of the night to letting you do whatever you want to me, but if you’d rather-”

“No,” Justin interjects hastily. “Your plan is good. Let’s do your plan.”

Brian shrugs. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure,” Justin insists, grinning. “Come here.”

He pulls Brian close and kisses him tenderly. Brian grabs a handful of Justin’s hair again and deepens the kiss, enjoying the faint taste of salt on Justin’s lips, and the touch of his sun-warmed body.

With a soft, satisfied moan, Justin pulls back and asks, “Can we stay out here for a while?”

There’s evident affection in his tone. Whether it’s being out amongst the waves and under the sun, or whether it’s simply that they’re completely alone out here, or the alluring fusion of the two, Brian isn’t sure. He gazes around at the expanse of ocean, then up at the clear spread of sky, then back at Justin, who is watching the waves ripple past with a serene expression on his face. Brian can’t recall the last time he saw Justin looking so calm and contented. He grabs Justin’s hand and locks their fingers together in a tight grasp. As he stares up at the perfect sky, he agrees softly, “We can stay.”


	3. Sunday

“This is what I have so far,” Justin says, smiling as he holds up the postcard to read aloud from it, “ _Dear Gus – this weekend, we went on a holiday to Provincetown. Our friend Tom has a beach house here. On Saturday, we went swimming. Today, we borrowed Tom’s bikes and went for a ride. Tonight, we're going to have pizza and watch a movie. The next time we see you we’ll have some presents for you and J.R. Give your moms and sister hugs and kisses from us. We miss you lots. Love from Daddy and Jus._ ”

“How sweet,” Brian drawls, smirking as Justin narrows his eyes at him.

“He loves getting postcards,” Justin says as he sets the card aside. “You’ll see. He’ll be over the moon about it. Now, what do you want on the pizza?”

Brian eyes the kitchen countertop - Justin's very messily kept domain - dubiously. “You know we could order in, right? You don’t have to go to all this trouble when we’re on holiday.”

“It’s not any trouble.” Justin shrugs. “Besides, I’m not chancing ordering pizza – we’re not in New York, so why bother?”

“Sunshine, are you turning into one of those notoriously arrogant New Yorkers?”

As Justin blushes and his lips start quirking into a guilty little smile, Brian grins at him and enthuses, “I love it. Keep it up.”

He feels a thrill as Justin bursts out laughing. They’ve been in high spirits all day long, and with good reason; first, there were all the things omitted from Gus’ postcard, like their morning-long fuckfest, and then there was their great afternoon cycling along the coast. Brian makes a mental note to tell Gus all about that when they talk next. The postcard will mean a lot to him, sure, but it's lacking the intricate details that Gus constantly thirsts for. As Brian thinks of what he might tell Gus, he feels a smile form on his face, one which proves impossible to wipe away. There's a similar smile on Justin's face as he roams around the kitchen, gathering bits and pieces to add to his cluttered countertop.

But apparently, their high spirits aren’t destined to last. As Justin starts rolling out the dough, he says quietly, “We can talk about it now, if you want. About therapy.”

“Okay,” Brian agrees, even though he’s not convinced he means it. There’s a part of him that wouldn’t mind turning a blind eye to all of this and letting the day continue with ease. Then again, the past few months have been a fairly brutal crash course in the hazards of denial. He swallows his cowardly urge to let it be and decides to face up to it. “How are you finding it?”

“I like it better than I used to,” Justin says with a shrug. “Jo’s a really good fit for me. I like working with her.”

“What do you do with her?”

“Lots of stuff. Sometimes we choose something to focus on. Sometimes we talk about anything that comes to mind. Sometimes we don’t talk at all.” Justin smiles to himself. “She’s actually really good with that. She lets me sketch or read, we listen to music… it’s nice. Then towards the end of the session, she asks me about whatever I was doing. There’s no pressure. It’s a nice break every once in a while. Most of the sessions are really intense.”

“Intense, like how?” Brian looks at Justin, intrigued as to what the answer will be. He has heard snippets about the therapy sessions _(today was rough; why she has an obsession with my father, I have no goddamned idea; I fucking hate this shit, it's exhausting; that’s it, I’m done with it, I’m never going back),_ but for the most part they don’t talk about it. It’s simply agreed to: Justin goes to therapy for an hour every Tuesday and forty minutes every Friday. It is what it is. And what it is, according to Justin and Jo, is essential.

Justin thinks for a while, then says, “Jo always tells me to visualise. She says I’m a visual thinker, so every time we talk about something, she gets me to describe it or draw it or whatever. Like, when we talk about…”

He falters slightly, then starts again with a strain in his voice: “When we talk about the bashing, she asks me to picture it. We've tried recreating it from what you've told me and what little I remember. Or we find some visual way of representing my feelings about it.”

As Justin lapses back into a thoughtful silence, Brian doesn’t attempt to break it. He’s struck with curiosity; he doesn’t know where Justin is going with this, but he’s keen to find out. Eventually, Justin admits, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve gotten used to that. We talked about how I feel about the bashing; I went back to my studio and covered six canvases in every shade of red I could come up with. She asked me about my father; all I can envisage is scorched earth. So when you ask me what I mean by ‘intense’…”

He hangs his head slightly and draws in a shuddering breath. As he exhales, Brian prompts as encouragingly as he possibly can, “What’s the visual for that?”

Justin raises his head and eyes Brian thoughtfully. Brian feels as though he’s under glass; it’s like Justin is examining him, trying to assess something. Then a softness blooms in his eyes – trust, clear as day – and he starts to speak.

“When we were younger, Daph and I went with her parents to Boston for a fortnight. Her dad was opening up an office there. Her mom took us to Salem for a day and we went to all the museums.” Justin pauses, takes a breath, then frowns down at his hands. They’re gripping the edge of the counter hard. As Brian watches his knuckles grow white, Justin explains, “One of the tour guides talked about pressing… they used to torture people by laying stones on their chest. It was used it as an interrogation strategy. Either the person would confess, at which point the punishment would cease, or it would keep going until their chest would cave in and they would asphyxiate.”

Justin hesitates again and swallows. “That’s what it feels like. I feel like there’s this weight bearing down on me. I feel like it could crush me at any given moment. Sometimes, when I leave her office, it feels like it already has.”

As Brian processes this, he struggles to speak. The words come out, but they’re barely audible over the deafening beating of his heart. “So why keep going?”

“Because it’s less frightening than the alternative.” Justin lifts his chin and gazes at Brian evenly. “I don’t want to shut this stuff out anymore. I don’t want to hide from it and then have it sneak up on me, like it did last time. Jo says she can help… and yeah, they all say that, but I actually believe her. I feel like if I keep at it, if I keep working through this, then eventually…”

He trails off into a pensive silence. Brian reaches across the countertop and thumbs his wrist until he finds his pulse-point. “… eventually…?”

“Eventually,” Justin continues, laughing nervously, “I’ll get better. I’ll be stronger. I’ll either be able to break free and get out from under the weight of the stones, or I’ll be able to live with the burden.”

For a while, Brian remains silent. He focuses on the soft throb of Justin’s pulse and the warmth of his skin. It contrasts starkly with the images invading his mind: Justin crushed under endless stones, his chest sunken, the stones slicked and spattered with blood. Bile rises to the back of Brian’s throat. He wishes momentarily that he were alone so that he could tear the place to shreds. He wishes that he were anywhere else but here; some place where he could be alone, some place where he could sink to his knees and cry. For a split second, he wonders if _he_ is one of those stones – if he is part of the reason that Justin is suffocating.

“What are they?” He blurts the question out so quickly that it’s impossible to mask the urgency of it. He holds Justin’s wrist tighter and adds, more gently this time, “The stones. What are they?”

“Hobbs,” Justin says, his voice murky, “And everything that went along with that. And my dad. And Babylon. And this entire goddamned breakdown… it’s so exhausting, so humiliating…”

“Come here,” Brian says. Justin rounds the counter and winds his arms around Brian, clutching him tight. Brian kisses his shoulder, his cheek, the corner of his mouth – he kisses him, hoping it will save him from screaming or sobbing, both of which are so very tempting right now. He pulls Justin into his lap, holds him close, and tries to think of what to say.

Then, fortunately, Justin reads his mind and says softly, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Though Brian isn't entirely convinced, he nods. Justin’s head comes to rest on his shoulder; with a splintered sigh, he adds, “You’ve already done enough.”

When he opens his mouth to protest, Justin silences him by insisting, “You _have._ You always know what to do.”

_Do I?_

There are times when it’s instinctive – when Brian knows to hold Justin and keep him close – but a lot of the time, it feels like guesswork. He feels like he’s fumbling around in the dark, searching for something that he can’t quite make out.

Brian is so caught up in wondering that he barely notices Justin slip out of his embrace. He remains lost in thought until Justin says, “Brian.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re overthinking it.” Justin offers him the slightest of smiles. “You’ve always known. It’s one of the reasons I love you so much: you get me.”

“Right.” Brian nods and watches as Justin finishes prepping the pizza and slides it into the waiting oven. There’s tension strung through his every movement – tension that needs to be done away with. Brian stands up and holds out his hand. Justin glances at it with a curious smile then takes it. As soon as he does, Brian reels him in and kisses him. He pushes Justin up against the nearest wall and kisses him passionately, until all the tension has faded from Justin’s body.

When the oven timer chimes, Justin pulls away. Brian grins at the sight of him: lips swollen, curved into a smile, face flushed happily. _So that wasn’t so hard,_ he tells himself, feeling quite pleased, _What next?_

**TBC**


	4. Monday

Halfway through the movie, Justin falls fast asleep. Brian doesn’t bother trying to rouse him. He pulls a blanket over the both of them and turns the volume on the TV way down low. He watches the rest of the movie with Justin draped over his chest, half-listening to the dialogue and half-listening to Justin’s soft, steady breathing. It’s a welcome change from the past few months, where sleepless nights have been aplenty due to vicious nightmares that leave Justin freshly traumatised.

When the movie ends, Brian reaches for the remote. The slight movement rouses Justin; he stirs, then lifts his head and asks sleepily, “What time is it?”

Brian glances at the clock on the end-table. “A little after midnight.”

Justin sits up and stares at Brian, aghast. “And we’re asleep on the couch?”

“We’re on holiday,” Brian says. He attempts to grab a handful of Justin’s t-shirt to reel him back in to their comfortable pose, but Justin pulls back.

“We’re on holiday, we’re not elderly people,” Justin protests. Then he smirks and gloats, “Well, at least I’m not.”

“Watch it,” Brian warns.

Justin grins wickedly. “ _You_ may be ready to amble off into your twilight years, but I’m- hey!”

As Brian wrestles Justin onto his back, he delights in the way Justin gasps and yelps in surprise. He grabs a handful of Justin’s hair and tugs it as he remonstrates, “I am _not_ ambling off into my twilight years, you little brat.”

“Sorry,” Justin laughs breathily. He gazes at Brian with heat flickering in his eyes, grins, and adds in a whisper, “Sir.”

Brian grins back for a mere moment. He knew that Justin would ask for this sooner or later. Lately, sex has been their one sure-fire way of coping. Through it all, Brian has navigated Justin’s needs with immense care. There have been nights that have slow and tender, full of gentle offerings of affection and hours of love-making that anchor them both and provide comfort amidst the chaos. There have been others where Brian has sensed different needs in Justin: a need to be taken, a need for roughness, a need for intense, unforgiving, relentless fucking that leaves them both exhausted and viciously sated. Then there have been ones like last night, where Justin was clearly craving control and so Brian gladly gave it to him.

And now there’s tonight; Justin needs to surrender and have Brian take over completely. Brian knew it was coming and can imagine how it will go with perfect clarity. Eager to get started, he gets up and offers his hand to Justin. As Justin grabs it, Brian pulls him up and instructs, “Here’s what I need from you, Taylor. You’re going to go into the bedroom, you’re going to get undressed, and you’re going to get into bed. You’re _not_ going to touch yourself. Understood?”

“I’m going to go into the bedroom, I’m going to get undressed, and I’m going to get into bed,” Justin echoes obediently. After a beat, he smirks and adds, “I’m going to try to keep from touching myself.”

Then, with a flair of rebellion, he marches off into the bedroom. Brian chuckles and follows him, making sure to catch up so that he can smack Justin’s ass. Then he grabs Justin and pushes him up against the bedroom doorframe so that he can warn, “You’d best behave yourself, Taylor.”

“I told you already,” Justin says, his eyes sparkling mischievously, “I’m going to try.”

Then he darts out of Brian’s grasp and heads towards the bed, stripping as he goes. Brian resists the urge to watch and goes off in search of their luggage – specifically, the bag that Justin said he’d packed with _supplies._

 _“Supplies,”_ he had said, grinning lasciviously. _“Everything we’ll need for a great weekend away.”_

Brian is keen to see what Justin has included. He finds the overnight bag in the closet and kneels down to unzip it. Inside are all manner of toys; probably too many to contemplate for a mere three nights away, but Justin always tends to come over-prepared. Brian smiles to himself as he delves through the extensive array of plugs, dildos, cuffs, and more, until finally he finds what he was hoping to. Right at the bottom of the bag are the long lengths of silk that Justin brought home a few months ago from some sex shop that he’d happened across in the Village. Whether it was indecisiveness or indulgence, Brian doesn’t know, but they ended up with three sets: red, black, and blue.

Brian runs the red silk through his fingers, recalling when they used these restraints a few months back. The crimson contrasted beautifully against Justin’s pale skin – it was almost spellbinding. But as much as Brian enjoys the red sashes, they don’t feel right this weekend. He sets them aside with the black silk sashes, which were used even more recently, and Brian isn’t one for needless repetition.

They have yet to use the blue sashes. It’s a peculiar shade – a pale, icy shade of blue that’s gentler than the red or the black. That’s precisely what Brian wants. He won’t risk cuffing or strapping Justin to the bed at a time like this; it could easily prove too much for him. The lengths of silk will do nicely, plus they’ll allow them to take full advantage of the beach house’s four poster bed.

Brian wraps one length of the blue silk around his fingers and forms a fist. He tosses the remaining four over his forearm and eyes the overnight bag contemplatively. There are so many options, so many avenues that could be taken... but he has an image of how tonight ought to go and none of Justin’s other  _supplies_   seem fitting, so Brian returns to the bedroom with the sashes and the sashes alone. He finds Justin spread out in the middle of the bed on top of the white duvet, his hand is wrapped around his cock, a moan spilling from his lips; Brian bites back on a growl as he watches Justin stroke it slowly.

“Taylor,” he says, catching Justin’s attention, “What did I tell you?”

Justin barely has a moment to grin at him before Brian is on him. After discarding the silk sashes, Brian wrestles Justin onto his front and holds his hands behind his back. Justin groans softly and pushes up slightly. Taking it as an invitation, Brian brings his hand down hard against Justin’s bare ass.

 _“Yes,”_   Justin mumbles into the mattress, pushing up again.

Brian growls and squeezes Justin’s wrists tighter together. “Stop begging for it like a filthy little slut and start counting.”

“How many?”

Brian contemplates that silently for a moment, then answers, “Five.”

“Five,” Justin echoes, nodding. Brian leans down and kisses the back of his neck. Ordinarily, he’d deal out far more than five. But this weekend is anything but ordinary. Though he knows Justin loves to be punished, Brian decides to err on the side of caution. He delivers each of the five hard (but not too hard) and with time in between; time that is spent palming Justin’s ass and watching the skin redden deliciously. Brian listens with deep satisfaction as Justin counts in a strained, shaking voice. He knows that voice - he recognises the lust underpinning it. When he turns Justin over again, Justin’s face is flushed, his eyes are dark, and his cock is red and leaking. Brian resists the urge to take him then and there. It wouldn’t do to rush this.

In a much more compliant tone, Justin asks, “Where would you like me?”

Smirking, Brian says, “Right where you are.”

He soaks up the sight of Justin’s grin and straddles him, then wraps one of the lengths of silk around his fist again. Brian runs his silk-clad knuckles along Justin’s jawline. Justin arches up a little, his eyes dizzyingly bright. It’s almost a shame to blindfold him, but Brian does so anyway. Once the blindfold is fastened, Brian leans down to study Justin carefully: the way his hair is falling over his face and brushing against the pale blue silk, the slight blush that’s blossomed in his cheeks, the gorgeous swell of his lips. Brian hovers over Justin for a while, listening to the thrum of his heartbeat and the flow of his breath, both of them indicating his growing anticipation. When Justin’s tongue peeks out to lick his lips, Brian loses all ability to resist – he kisses him tenderly, reassuringly.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” he says, whispering the words against Justin’s neck. He feels Justin swallow, then nod. Brian kisses his neck and traces his thumb from Justin’s chin to the hollow of his throat, then urges, “Say it.”

“I’ll let you know if it’s too much.” 

“Good boy. Arms up.”

He’s pleased when Justin complies immediately. Brian gets up and attaches each of the four remaining sashes to the bed’s towering wooden posters. He knots them tightly to the posters, then begins attaching their ends more gently to Justin’s ankles and wrists. The bonds are loose and have a fair amount of give. Brian wouldn’t have it any other way tonight. Justin may need to give up control but Brian wants to ensure that he still feels safe.

It can’t be like it was a couple of years back, during that incredible night at the Mondrian which Brian still thinks of frequently. He was visiting New York for the weekend and they were both craving something rough. Justin offered up a pair of cuffs and Brian gladly went all in.

He spent hours indulging their mutual craving, until they were both soaked with sweat and mindless with ecstasy. He can still envisage Justin cuffed to the headboard, gagged (it was a hotel, after all), dripping with sweat, his ass bright red and his neck marred with bite marks. Once they were finished, Brian removed the gag to find Justin grinning blissfully. _“You always know exactly what I want,”_ he said as Brian uncuffed him. As soon as he was freed, Justin wound his arms eagerly around Brian and they spent the rest of the night kissing and revelling in their reunion.

As fucking spectacular as that night was, this one can’t be as extreme. Justin isn’t in the right frame of mind for it. Tonight needs to be easier, quieter, gentler.

Brian grabs Justin’s left forearm, lifts it, then drops it back down. He does the same to his left leg in a silent demonstration of how relaxed the restraints are. Justin smiles a little. Brian watches his soft lips curve and desperately wants to kiss them again.

First things first, though – he grabs Justin’s chin and orders, “You’re going to stay still. You’re not going to move. You’re _not_ going to come – not until I say so.”

Justin nods and reiterates, “I’m going to stay still. I’m not going to move. I’m not going to come until you say so.”

Still holding Justin’s chin, Brian angles it just so and kisses him indulgently. Then he slips back into bed and lies down next to Justin.

For some time, he remains still and silent. He watches Justin's chest rise and fall in line with his steady breathing. It’s such a soothing sound; one that’s so markedly different to the ragged, panicked breathing that Brian has awoken to so often lately. He could listen to this kind of breathing forever. Right now, it’s set against the sound of the sea, coming in to shore not far from the bedroom’s bay windows. Brian glances out briefly to catch a glimpse of the inky night sky and the glimmering ripples of the waves. Then he returns to gazing at Justin. He traces a hand down Justin’s chest, keeping the touch as soft as possible. He hasn't forgotten Justin’s confession about the stones. Is that how he feels all the time? Is that how he feels right now?

Brian can’t be sure and he doesn’t want to ask. He simply caresses Justin’s chest and hopes that tonight will do something to ease the burden.

If it doesn’t, Brian has no idea what he’ll do. Justin may have faith in Brian’s ability to help and heal, but Brian is less sure.  _Considerably_ less sure. But at least for now, he still has this. This he knows. This is easy. He’ll tend to Justin tonight with utmost care and deliver what he’s asked for. 

He starts by kissing Justin’s neck; tasting him, teasing him. He can feel Justin trembling a little - he’s probably straining to stay still. Brian smirks to himself; he intends to make it all but impossible for Justin to stay still.

He grasps Justin’s throat, feather-light – he doesn’t intensify the touch one bit, he simply leaves it as a gentle touch of his palm against Justin’s neck. Even so, Justin’s breath catches slightly. Brian drags his hand down slowly, baring Justin’s throat bit-by-bit and covering every exposed inch with tender kisses that wrench small, satisfied gasps from Justin.

Everything he does, he drags it out – torturously so. It’s not long until Justin starts to wriggle, then he starts to writhe, and then eventually he starts to beg. Fuck, _nothing_ is as hot as hearing Justin beg for it. As Brian grinds against him, Justin arches upwards, pleading, “Brian, please, I need it-”

“What exactly do you need?”

With a gulp, Justin elaborates, “I need to come.”

“Hmm.” Brian smirks and ceases grinding against the frustrated, quivering mess that is Justin. “You know, Taylor, you’ve been very well behaved… or about as well behaved as I think is possible for you.”

Justin laughs a little and gives a tiny nod. Brian takes it all in: how swollen his lips are from a hell of a lot of kissing and cock-sucking, how his restrained arms are trembling slightly, how his cock is throbbing and how his hips are lifting needily.

“Since you’ve been so well behaved,” Brian murmurs, ghosting his fingertips over Justin’s hips, “I’ll let you choose. How do you want to come?”

Without any hesitation, Justin demands, “With you inside me.”

Then, after a fraction of a second: “Uh… sir.”

Brian can’t help but laugh. Justin bursts out laughing too.

Once he’s gotten a hold of himself, Brian warns, “Watch it.”

“You watch it,” Justin chuckles. “You started it.”

Brian leans in and kisses him. It’s slow at first, but Justin kisses back desperately and it feels like a plea for more, so Brian gives it to him. When he breaks away from the kiss (which is no easy feat, because it feels so fucking good), he grabs a condom and rolls it onto his cock.

After almost a solid hour of rimming and fingering, Justin is open and ready. Brian slicks himself with a little more lube and spreads Justin’s legs wide. “Ready?”

“Always,” Justin replies with a hint of laughter. Brian smiles and kisses him again, then begins to push inside. He takes it slow and enjoys the sight of Justin’s mouth falling open. He’s even more thrilled to hear Justin moan. Once he’s completely buried inside Justin’s tight ass, Brian brings their bodies completely together. He settles one hand on Justin’s hip and slides the other into Justin’s silky hair.

“Fuck me,” Justin says, squeezing tight around Brian’s length. “Please?”

Brian kisses him by way of agreement and begins to fuck him with short, slow, shallow thrusts. He buries his face in Justin’s neck and inhales his scent, kisses the hollow of his throat, tastes the beads of sweat dotting his skin. Beneath him, Justin writhes and voices his satisfaction in quiet moans and dire pleas.

“More,” he begs, and so Brian gives it to him. He tightens his hold on Justin’s hip and thrusts in deeper, harder. Justin cries out and repeats, “More, please…”

Brian doesn't hesitate or hold back: he gives Justin exactly what he wants, increasing the intensity steadily until he’s fucking Justin hard and fast. He follows a certain pattern, slamming in deep then kissing Justin with similar urgency. With every thrust, Justin arches his hips up and squeezes around Brian, and with every kiss, he pushes upwards and kisses back desperately. They’ll never last at this rate, so Brian decides to give in and give them both what they’re craving. He crushes their lips together once more, then brings his lips to the shell of Justin’s ear to whisper, “Now.”

That’s all that’s needed – Justin lets go and comes, arching up against Brian, crying out his name and spilling all over the both of them. Brian lets go too, thrusts in deep, and comes with a long moan.

He stays still for a while afterwards, resting on top of Justin contentedly as they both collect themselves. As soon as Brian has gathered himself, he pulls out, gets rid of the condom, then tends to Justin. Brian gently removes the blindfold and releases Justin from his restraints. As he does so, he steals a moment to smile down at Justin, who grins back lazily.

“All okay?” Brian asks, stroking Justin’s arms tenderly. 

“I’m alright. That was _perfect.”_

Now freed, he makes a grab for Brian. Smiling, Brian settles next to him and wraps him up in a snug embrace.

“I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss to Justin’s swollen lips. “I love you so fucking much.”

Justin kisses him back, sweetly and soundly. “I love you, too.”

Brian holds him close, caresses him, covers him with kisses. He wraps Justin up in his arms and buries his face in Justin’s hair. Outside, the ocean is swaying slowly. Brian falls asleep to the soft sounds of it lulling back and forth, and the reassuring sound of Justin’s calm, even breathing.

*

“Brian. Wake up.”

Brian awakes to find himself sprawled across the bed with Justin kneeling beside it, watching him. He rolls from lying on his stomach to lying on his side and eyes Justin curiously. “Why are you dressed? That won’t do-”

He tries reaching for Justin, but Justin shies away. With an apologetic smile, he explains, “It’s almost evening. You slept all day. We should drive back soon… I have an appointment with Jo first thing tomorrow; I don’t want to miss it.”

“Okay. Let’s-”

“I already packed.” Justin leans in and kisses Brian’s brow. “I thought we could grab dinner on the way back; something to have on the road.”

“Sure.” Brian touches his cheek and strokes it gently. “Like I said. Anything you want.”

Justin grins from ear to ear. “You’ve already given me enough.”

Then he stands up and goes to grab the luggage. Brian pulls himself out of bed and starts to get dressed as Justin chatters about which route to take and how they’ll split the driving. Brian grabs the overnight bag and follows Justin through the beach house and out onto the porch. The sun is starting to set amidst a gathering of wispy clouds. Brian hooks his arm around Justin’s shoulders and pulls him in close. After touching his lips to Justin’s temple in the barest of kisses, he murmurs, “That rule is all-encompassing. Any time you want something, you only ever have to ask.”

Justin laughs a little and challenges, “And the answer will always be ‘yes’?”

“Maybe not always,” Brian concedes, chuckling. “But I’ll do my best.”

Justin glances towards the horizon momentarily. Brian follows his gaze and watches the sun sink into the rocking waves. When their eyes meet again, Justin is smiling at him tenderly. “I want you to know how much I love you. And I want you to know that I’ll always do my best, too.”

“I know,” Brian says, his heart jolting inside his chest. He brings their foreheads together and cradles Justin’s face gently.

Justin smiles – it looks something like relief – and continues with happiness shining in his voice, “And I want us to go home. This was the best weekend _ever,_ it was… _everything_ I needed… but now I want to be back where we belong.”

“Where we belong,” Brian echoes, returning Justin’s smile. He can’t stop smiling, not even when Justin kisses him; the smile stays plastered to his face. He hopes (perhaps blindly, perhaps foolishly, but happily nonetheless) that the way they’re feeling in this moment will never leave. He kisses Justin once more, then says gladly, “Let’s go.”

**The End**


End file.
